Better Than Friends
Chapter 1
Olive had three pet peeves: loud chewers, the word “moist,” and . . . in the number one spot . . . love. And yes, she’d given it a try, several times in fact, and still had the occasional eye twitch to prove it, as she’d come out a big loser.
“You’re breathing funny,” Katie said. “You ate something with nuts in it again, didn’t you?”
Another example of how love hadn’t worked out for her. Olive loved peanuts, so of course she was allergic. “No, and I’m fine,” she said into her Bluetooth. Look at her, the master of the little white lie. After years of honing the skill, she could fool just about anyone, even her lifelong BFF. “And actually, I’m great.
Totally great. Like one hundred percent great.”
“That’s sarcasm, right?”
Katie Turner- Brooks had an eidetic memory, could solve complicated mathematical problems in her head and recite years- old conversations verbatim, but sarcasm eluded her.
“Excuse me, it’s called manifesting,” Olive said. “Because I really want to be great.” And not halfway to a panic attack . . .
“Then you will be.”
Katie had never understood it wasn’t that easy for Olive. She’d been a seriously awkward kid who’d been desperate to belong, and not much had changed. She exhaled and took in her view as she drove along Lake Tahoe, toward the small mountain town of Sunrise Cove on the north shore, trying not to feel like that lost girl all over again. “At my last stop for gas, I bought salami, an energy drink, and a chocolate cream pie, if that helps explain my emotional state.”
“What are you worrying about? Almost no one remembers that time you ran over the town hero.”
At Olive’s silence, Katie sighed. “Aaaand, I still can’t tell a joke right. I read a book on it and everything.”
“It was a little funny.” Emphasis on little. “But we both know everyone remembers what I did.” Noah Turner, aka the town hero, was a lot of things. Voted most likely to make something of himself. Beloved son. Katie’s twin brother.
And let’s not forget Olive’s high school pretend boyfriend.
“Why do you care what anyone thinks?” Katie asked.
“I don’t. I’m just tired of not having my shit together.”
“Gotta fake it to make it, babe,” Katie said. “You once told me that.”
The memories invoked an emotion that clogged Olive’s throat, so she distracted herself by taking in the view. The sky was so bright and clear, the water such a deep blue, the mountains blanketed by endless pines, topped with caps of snow, all of it so stunning that if all of it hadn’t been humming and teeming with such vibrance, it could’ve been a painting.
Into her silence, Katie said, “You also told me that no matter how many times you break, you can still put yourself back together.”
“Yeah, well, past me had more hope. And it’d be great if you could try and forget all the dumb stuff I’ve said.”
“How do I differentiate?”
Olive laughed. “Look at that, a joke!”
“Who said I was joking?”
“Ha- ha.”
“Whatever,” Katie cleared her throat. “Thanks for coming to help me with little Joey. The library gave me leave for as long as I need, but it’ll still be so helpful to have you so I can spend more time at the hospital with Joe. It means a lot.”
“Of course.” Katie rarely asked for help, even though she’d given Olive everything her own parents hadn’t been able to: safety, security . . . acceptance . . . “I’m all yours, whatever you need.”
Noah and Joe, Katie’s husband, were work partners, both ISB
special agents— Investigative Services Branch of the National Park Service under the Department of the Interior— working out of the Yosemite station, about three hours south. They’d been investigating a series of car burglaries and thefts that had culminated in an ugly, dangerous high- speed chase. One of the suspects in the car had opened fire on Noah and Joe, blowing out their windshield and then two of their tires, causing their vehicle to flip.
Joe had been transported by helo to a Tahoe hospital, where a week later he still remained in the ICU. Noah had been released, though he was not cleared for duty, still healing from various injuries including his right leg. Actually, that was a re-injury, from when Olive had accidentally run him over all those years ago. Things she’d put away in the Don’t Think About It Right Now file. “How’s Joe?”
“Still in a coma,” Katie said. “Which is the short story. The long story is that he’s in a state of unarousable unconsciousness due to a dysfunction of the brain’s ascending reticular activating system, or ARAS, which is responsible for the maintenance of wakefulness.”
“He’s going to be okay,” Olive said softly.
“Yes, because if he’s not, I’ll climb into his coma and drag him out myself.”
“I’ll help.”
“Misfits unite.”
Olive laughed softly. “Misfits unite.” It’d been their mantra since she’d moved in with her grandma at age fourteen, right next to Katie’s family. Up until then, she’d been homeschooled on an off- the- grid farm several hours north of Tahoe in a remote wilderness that few ventured into. This meant she’d been able to build a fire in three minutes flat but hadn’t known the first thing about kids her own age. Nor had Katie, which had made them an easy target at school. Poor Noah— not troubled, not a misfit— had been their reluctant protector.
“Are you close?” Katie asked.
Olive eyed the lake on her right. The azure blue water ran so deep, it could swallow up the entire Empire State Building.
Massive groves of pine trees climbed so high in the sky they seemed to brush up against the few puffy white clouds floating by. Just taking it all in lowered her blood pressure. “I’m about to pass your work.”
“The library? Great, you’ll be here in ten point five minutes.
Don’t get lost.”
Olive laughed. “It hasn’t been that long. And I never get lost.”
“Not true. Remember when you were taking your driver’s li-cense test, and the DMV guy said turn right, but you always mixed up your rights and left, and you turned left— ”
“I’ve got that down now,” Olive joked, hoping to ward off the whole tale. Unlikely since Katie had never met a story she wanted to stop in the middle of.
“You ended up on a one- way street going the wrong way and totally freaked out, so you rushed to make a right turn, but it wasn’t a street, it was a trail, and since it was posted everywhere that no cars were allowed, you failed your test— ”
“I remember.”
“Your instructor got chest pains and had to be taken by ambulance to the hospital, but it turned out to be just indigestion because he’d eaten four hot dogs at that food shack at the lake, the one that had been shut down for giving dozens of people food poisoning. Do you remember that part?”
“It’s ringing a bell,” Olive said dryly.
“You made the front page of the local paper. It’s rare to make the front page, but you managed it again a few years later when— ”
“Let me save you some time, okay? I remember all the stupid stuff I did. I’ll see you in a few— ” She broke off when a guy stepped off the sidewalk without looking. Slamming on the breaks, she nearly had heart failure before her car skid to a stop a few feet from him.
When he turned to face her, she sucked in a shocked breath.
“What?” Katie asked.
Olive’s car was half in the crosswalk, slightly crooked, the smell of burnt tires assaulting her senses. The guy she’d nearly hit yanked out an earbud and lifted a hand up to shade his eyes, clearly trying and failing to see past her windshield into her rental Mini Cooper.
A whoosh of relief escaped her. Noah Turner himself. He mouthed sorry! and then just continued on his way, his gait uneven, clearly favoring his right leg.
“He’s sorry?” she muttered. “I almost had a heart attack, and he’s sorry— ”
“Who are you talking to?”
Olive drew a deep breath for a calm that didn’t come. “I almost ran over your brother.”
“Again? He’s not going to like that.”
She resisted the urge to thunk her forehead against the steering wheel. “I’m pretty sure he couldn’t see my face, and I don’t plan on enlightening him. You can’t either.”
“No worries,” Katie said. “You’re the One Who Shall Not Be Named.”
“What?”
“Crap,” Katie muttered, accompanied by a sound like maybe she’d just smacked herself in the forehead. “Don’t let Olive know that’s her nickname.”
“Oh my God. Seriously?”
“Don’t take it personally,” Katie said. “He’s got a whole list of things Mom and I can’t talk to him about. One is women and/or marriage— all women, not just you.”
Olive choked out a laugh. “Wow.”
“We’re also no longer allowed to ask when he’s going to settle down and have kids. But really, he should’ve made a rule about matchmaking, because Mom’s been trying to set him up with every even vaguely single woman she meets.”
Olive found her first genuine smile for the day. Here she’d been dreading coming back and having to see Noah, but it sounded as if his hands were full.
“Oh, and you’ll be staying with us,” Katie said.
“That’s sweet,” Olive said while thinking hell- no. “But I can’t put you out at a time like this. Gram’s got plenty of room— ”
“She’s been renting her extra rooms out to supplement her social security checks.”
Olive felt her heart squeeze. “What? ”
“You didn’t know?”
Guilt swamped Olive. Had she been that busy keeping her PR firm afloat that she’d neglected to make sure Gram was okay? They’d always been close, really close, even though Olive hadn’t lived here since the summer she’d graduated high school.
She’d gone to New York for college. After that, she’d taken a PR grunt job in London. Her boss had been an asshole, but she’d loved the city, loved how different it was from everything she’d ever known. She’d left the job a year ago but had stayed in London to start her own PR firm. She had only two regrets about that, and Katie was one of them. Her grandma was the other.
“No, I didn’t know she was renting out rooms.”
Katie was quiet a moment, as she always was when trying to think how to say something without being too harsh or blunt.
“Maybe she didn’t want to worry you,” she finally said.
Gram had been a nurse for forty years. She had a pension and her house was paid off. Why would she rent out rooms? “You’ve got enough going on, I’ll get a hotel— ”
“No!” Katie lowered her voice. “I need you, Olive.”
Katie had been there for her through thick and thin, and there’d been a lot of thin.
“Promise me.”
Gah. “I promise. And I’m here,” she said, turning into the shared driveway between the Turner house and Gram’s.
“Your ETA was 12:32, and it’s 12:38,” Katie said. “But then again, you did almost hit my brother. That must’ve added a few minutes to your time.”
Olive caught sight of Katie’s face pressed up against the window. Next to her stood a shorter mini- Katie— her five- year- old son, and Olive’s godson— Joey. Her heart warmed at the sight of the house, at seeing Katie and Joey, at everything, including Holmes, the family’s twelve- year- old basset hound snoozing on the porch, big as a hairy kindergartner and snoring loud enough for her to hear from her car.
“Uh- oh,” Katie said.
“You know I hate an uh- oh.”
Katie sent her a grimace through the window. “Noah just texted that he’s almost here. He wasn’t supposed to get back from his run until 1:24, which would’ve given you enough time to see me before going to visit Gram. He must’ve cut through the woods even though he isn’t supposed to jog on uneven turf yet. That’s going to set his recovery back.”
Olive didn’t want to think about how he’d gotten injured in the first place, as it would make her sympathetic toward him.
She really needed to hold on to her self- righteous anger in order to stay sane. Leaping out of the car, her anger turned to anxiety.
She had learned it was important to be flexible in life whenever necessary. “Let me know when the coast’s clear and I’ll come over.”
They disconnected and Olive turned to Gram’s house just as the front door opened.
“You’re finally here!” Gram cried, wiping her hands on the same floral apron she’d worn for as long as Olive could remember. In the blink of an eye, she was being hugged by arms much frailer than they’d ever been, but no less fierce or short of love.
She held on tight, smiling because, as always, her grandma smelled like roses and vanilla and childhood dreams.
“Oh, honey, are you a sight for sore eyes . . .” Gram’s face tightened with worry. “But about your room— ”
“It’s okay. Katie told me about your renters. I’ll sleep at her place, but are you okay? If you’re short money, I can— ”
“No, I’m good. Really,” she promised. “The Bunco girls are planning a trip to Hawaii this winter. Renting out the extra rooms seemed like a great way to get the money. I hear about these great mai tais, and how at a luau you can watch hot men dance while they twirl firesticks every night.” She smiled and gently patted Olive’s cheeks. “Oh, I’ve missed you.”
“Missed you more.” The words were woefully inadequate.
“Before I forget, have you talked to Mom or Dad? Yesterday was our monthly check- in call, and they didn’t answer or call me back.”
Gram shook her head. “They’re probably traveling to some festival or craft fair to sell their wares and forgot. Remember last year when they went to Burning Man? It was two weeks before they remembered to check in.” Holding on to Olive’s hands, she spread their arms out. “You didn’t have to dress up for me.”
In her sundress, denim jacket, and wedge sandals, Olive wasn’t all that dressed up. But she supposed, compared to the secondhand clothes she used to wear, she looked very different. She’d eventually learned to dress the part of the polished, elegant, self-reliant, successful woman she’d wanted to be. In her line of work, image was everything. Image and confidence.
Which, let’s face it, she was still working on.
“You look fantastic, but you also looked worried.”
“I am. For Katie.”
“Of course. But it’s also more.”
Olive didn’t bother denying this, it wouldn’t work. She was a grade A plus liar when she needed to be, after all she was in public relations, but she’d never been able to fool Gram.
Proving it, she found herself being pulled through the house and out the slider to the side yard and the patio there, where she took her first true deep breath in . . . she had no idea. She hadn’t realized until this very moment just how much she’d been missing the stability Gram always provided.
“Sit,” her grandma said. “I’ll be right back with the cure.”
“Mew.”
Olive looked down and found herself being stared at by a tiny gray and white kitten with slightly crossed blue eyes. “Well, hello.” She reached for her, but the little thing hissed and backed away. “Tiny but mighty, huh? I come in peace.”
“Maybe you do, but she most definitely doesn’t,” Gram said, coming back out. “She’s a stray, just appeared out of nowhere yesterday. I’m calling her Pepper because she’s so spicy.”
“She’s so thin.”
“I know. I’ve been putting out food and water for her. And I’m about to do the same for you.”
Olive turned to Gram and laughed because the woman had a tray of milk and cookies, just like the old days.
Gram grinned. “I do love the strays.”
Olive dipped a cookie into her mug of milk, watching it carefully because it was a fine line between not enough soakage and too much soakage.
“Is it your job stressing you?” Gram asked. “I thought you loved living in the UK, running your own company.”
Olive thought about that as she leaned over her mug, and yet still managed to dribble milk down the front of her dress. Awesome. “I do love it, both London and being my own boss.”
Gram expertly lifted her perfectly soaked cookie to her mouth without getting a single drop of milk on herself. “While you’re here, I could use your skills at the senior center. We’re trying to expand and need funding.”
“Happy to.”
Gram smiled. “And the boyfriend? What’s his name again?
Ian? The one who gave you a pretty bracelet.”
No, Ian had given her emotional whiplash, and a headache with a splash of trust issues after he’d cheated on her with someone she’d thought was a friend. She’d bought herself the bracelet after she’d dumped him. “I’m . . . seeing someone new.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful,” Gram said. “What’s his name?”
“Matt.” Matt was funny, sweet, kind, loyal, had a great job, great family, and . . . pretend. Which really made him the perfect boyfriend.
“He didn’t want to come with you?” Gram made a show of looking at Olive’s ring finger. Her ringless ring finger. “I’d have loved to meet him.”
Okay, so there were downsides to a pretend boyfriend. But the plus side? No fielding questions from anyone on why she was still single. Or why she still had trouble trusting people with her heart. Not to mention making her seem even more put together, and she’d take all the help she could get there. “He’s been super busy lately, so— ”
“Poppycock. Who’s too busy for love? You deserve it, more than anyone I know.”
Olive didn’t want for love. She wanted for structure, which had always been missing from her life. As a result, she tended to operate in relationships like that young kid she’d once been, recreating the chaos she’d lived with growing up.
A truck drove up the common driveway, parking at the very top, on Katie’s side. The man who got out was everything she remembered: tall; leanly muscled; his dark, slightly curly hair peeking out from beneath a ballcap; his eyes hidden behind mirrored sunglasses. Once upon a time, he’d always had a smile, but not today. Today his mouth was grim. He rolled his shoulders like he was in some pain, then stilled at the sight of the Mini Coop.
The one that had nearly hit him less than half an hour ago.
Olive sucked in a breath and slouched in the porch swing.
She was still holding that breath when he removed his sunglasses and peered inside the car before lifting his head, unerringly finding her gaze with his own.